


Good Dog

by WhyNotFly



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace Jon Subtype: Sex is a series of simple mechanical actions other people enjoy, Bad Sex, Cunnilingus, Daisy said messy bitch rights, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Dubious Consent, F/M, Food involved in Sex, Human Pet, Hunt Daisy, Minor fatphobic remarks, Non-binary Daisy, Puppy Play, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse, Withdrawn Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/pseuds/WhyNotFly
Summary: “This place is kind of a dump,” says the dick that Daisy tugged along with her by the belt into her flat before slamming the scratched up, white, wood door behind him.She kicks aside a crunched up empty bottle so that it skids across the floor and comes to rest in a dusty corner.  “I have a dog.”Daisy’s trained Jon into being a very good dog.  Good enough to help her out with a one night stand gone wrong.
Relationships: Alice "Daisy" Tonner/Original Male Character, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	Good Dog

“This place is kind of a dump,” says the dick that Daisy tugged along with her by the belt into her flat before slamming the scratched up, white, wood door behind him.

She kicks aside a crunched up empty bottle so that it skids across the floor and comes to rest in a dusty corner. “I have a dog.”

“Oh,” says the dick, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as if it might protect him from breathing in the stale air he’s been wallowing in. It actually makes him look marginally more palatable. Maybe she’ll cover his face with a pillow while she fucks herself on him. “I’m allergic.”

“He doesn’t shed.” Daisy grabs the hem of her old football jersey and yanks it up over her head. No point in wasting time. She definitely didn’t bring this guy back for his charming company.

“And he’s…?” The dick scans his eyes across the room until his gaze collides with Daisy’s tits and sticks there like a fly to paper. She relieves herself of her bra with a grateful sigh and rolls her shoulders back, enjoying the way his eyes track up and down like ping pong balls. She can appreciate a one track mind. Easy to deal with.

“Bedroom.”

“Right,” the dick nods furiously and turns to head deeper into her flat, stumbling to tug his shoes off as he goes. Daisy lunges forward and grabs his shirt, tugging him back by it with a sharp enough motion that he chokes out a pathetic sound at the neckline digging into his windpipe. It sends a thrill down to the bottom of her stomach.

“No, dipshit,” she says, tossing her grip on him away. “The dog’s locked up in the bedroom. You get on the couch.”

“Right,” he says again, like a record with a crack in it that keeps bouncing back and forth along the same three notes. He scrabbles with his belt, the whiskey in his system turning his fingers thick and useless. Or more thick and useless. They already look pretty pointless, round and sausage-like with coarse black hair covering over the knuckles and sun-spotted tan skin. He hops about like a wounded duck trying to shake the leg of his khaki pants clear of his ankle, and it makes her want to knock him to the floor. Pounce. Dig her teeth into the bit of his spine right at the nape of his neck where the bone sticks out, vulnerable and inviting. But she’s better than that now. She’s trying to be better. And she can see a promising bulge in his briefs as they rise into view that will almost certainly be good enough to scratch the itch too deep inside to reach her fingers in and claw the aching out.

The dick is on her couch and the dick’s dick is fully exposed, half hard and growing harder as he strokes the heel of his hand up and down the edge of it. He hasn’t taken his shirt off and, after a second of internal debate, Daisy decides she prefers that. He looks like he’s got hair on his chest, and she prefers not to smell the alcohol and salt sweating out of his pores. It can’t be good for her.

Daisy has barely shimmied the edges of her boxers off her hips before the dick whistles low, the sound half-stuttering through his dry, chapped lips. She looks over at him, a hungry, smouldering thing inside her tracing the hot blood rising through his neck and cheeks. Like a crime scene. His face matches the red swell of his dripping prick. Daisy swallows the sour spit rising behind her teeth.

“Hey pretty lady,” he says, in a voice that sounds like it thinks it’s being suave. “Want to suck me off?”

“No.” Daisy pointedly ignores him, turning away to take the few long strides to the end table by the side of the couch. She leans over to tug open the drawer and he takes the opportunity to smack the exposed swell of her ass cheek. She whips around and grabs his wrist before he can even pull it back, and she twists it until he whines with the painful stretch. She sets her back teeth together.

“Touch me again, and you lose it.”

“H-hey, I thought you brought me here to touch you.”

“I brought you here to fuck me,” she corrects. “You can touch my cock and fuck my cunt until I’m pulling your hair out in clumps, but you can stuff it with any other touchy feely bullshit that pops into that water-logged fungus you pass off for a brain, or you can get the fuck out of my apartment and rub yourself off against a crack in the concrete until you bleed cum. Got it?”

“Uh, I guess?” Daisy releases the man’s hand and he pulls it back into himself, lowering it to press on the tip of his cock almost defensively. Better than having it anywhere near her, she supposes.

Daisy turns back to the end table drawer and starts digging through it distractedly, spare batteries and packs of matches spilling out onto the ground. “Where are the goddamn condoms?”

“We could--”

“Don’t even finish that thought,” Daisy snaps. “I think I left them in the bedroom. Don’t move.”

The dick freezes, all his muscles seizing tight, and Daisy can’t decide if it’s him mocking her or genuinely fearing her. With a shake of her head she gives him a pass and turns away to head down the hallway towards her bedroom. She can feel the beginnings of arousal in the slick glide of her bare thighs against each other as she walks. The faster she gets this over with, the better.

“Pup?” Daisy kicks her foot once against the bottom of her bedroom door, just enough to announce her presence. “I’m coming in, don’t run anywhere.”

Daisy pushes the door open and spots her dog curled up neatly in the corner in his little nest of old sweatshirts and torn cushions spilling stuffing. At the sound of the door opening, he lifts his little head and shakes out his curly black hair. He lifts one hand to rub the sleep away from his eyes in a gesture that’s almost human, but he’s been so good today she lets it slide.

“Hullo, Jon,” Daisy says, shutting the door behind her as her dog crawls his way on his hands and knees across the floor towards her, butting his face against the side of her leg until she relents and leans down to scratch him hard behind the ear. “I’m not staying, I’ve still got company.”

Jon whines high in his throat and lifts his face up to her, tongue lolling out of the bottom of his mouth and dark eyes wide and sad. She puts the pad of her foot on the center of his bare chest and kicks him gently away.

“Be good.” 

Jon makes another quiet noise in the back of his throat as he crawls back over to his nest and Daisy makes her way to the nightstand to retrieve the lube and a roll of condoms. After a moment’s hesitation, she rips off just one and leaves the rest behind. Wouldn’t want him getting any ideas.

“You better still be hard over there,” Daisy calls out as she shuts the door of her bedroom behind her with a click.

“Just waitin’ patient for that sweet cunt of yours,” he calls back and she gags on the rough roll of his voice over the words. She can almost hear the two too many shots of whiskey he’d slammed before she goaded him out of the bar, hand slipping far lower on her back than it belonged. He was lucky she was desperate. He was lucky she was recovering.

“I figure I oughta do this for you,” Daisy says as she comes back around the front of the couch to face him. She dangles the silver-foiled condom packet from between her two upraised fingers for a moment before gripping the corner with her front teeth and ripping it open. “Considering you probably never seen a naked pussy since your poor sod of a mother pumped you out.”

“I do alright for myself.” The dick smirks up at her like it’s sexy banter or something, like she should understand just from looking at his bloated cheeks and receding hairline that she’s in for the lay of her life. Maybe she should be the bigger man, give him the benefit of the doubt, assume he’s in mourning or something so every single mirror in his house is covered up. That or he’s been swimming in crowds with some very desperate women. Maybe with absent fathers. Or drug habits. Or both.

Daisy rolls the condom down the man’s cock in one easy, practiced motion, and her hand stills when it reaches the base. _She’s_ the desperate woman sleeping with him. Dear god, what does that say about her?

The dick thrusts up just a bit into the lax circle of her hand. “You didn’t look like a tease.”

Daisy shakes her head once, letting all the thoughts bounce away. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be a thinking night. 

Daisy flicks the top off the bottle of lube with unnecessary force, hoping to jar the energy back into her own limbs. This is her hunt, now. A little human violence to scratch the whispers deep inside her. Maybe tomorrow she’ll drive her dog out to the woods and let it run as far as it can before she catches it and pins it down and tastes its shuddering fear between her teeth, but tonight she is just a human. And this is just a dick.

“Oh god,” the man moans as she finally slips down on his slicked cock, guiding it inside herself with one hand while she braces the other against the back of her couch. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Nnnn, n-no,” Daisy’s breath hitches a bit as she rolls her hips and feels the stretch widen as he sinks deeper inside her. She slides her knees out a little wider where they’re braced on either side of his hips. This is why she bothered to leave the flat. There is nothing quite like being filled and pressed tight against a hot body full of blood. “No talking.”

Daisy arches her back and tips her hips forward, rocking back and forth on the hard cock until she can get it exactly where she needs it. Like pressing on a bruise, the pleasure of being pushed just past comfort spills hot in her stomach and spreads down her legs until she’s curling her bare toes where they hang off the edge of her couch. She shivers once, luxuriating in the frisson that rockets up her spine. The first moment is always the best, when it’s been too long since she’s had anything inside her but the disappointing fumble of her own fingers, and she’s not quite turned on enough yet to escape the edge of pain that wears pleasure like a false skin.

She rocks her hips again and it’s too much too soon and it’s perfect and she growls, low in her throat as she tips her head back.

“Can I touch your tits?” The dick’s simpering voice was obnoxious in the bar and nearly unbearable in her apartment and yet it’s _somehow_ even worse now, breaking into her thoughts like a thrown open window into a hangover. She pulls her head back down and snarls.

“No. Don’t move.”

“Don’t talk, don’t move.” The dick makes an odd sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle, as if he thinks this is all a joke. “What do you even want me to do?”

“Nothing.” Daisy punctuates the word with another sharp snap of her hips that digs his cock right into the perfect spot inside her. “Just sit here, and be good, and maybe I’ll let you come when I’ve had my fill.”

Daisy can see the pleasure shiver through his eyes just as she can feel it pulse through the cock buried deep inside her, but _still_ the idiot opens his mouth. 

“You know,” he says, and she considers jamming a hand between his teeth and fucking his throat with her fingers until his brain doesn’t have the oxygen to put together words. “There is such a thing as a sex toy. Why go through the trouble of a one night stand if all you want is a dildo?”

“I wouldn’t advocate so hard for your replacement if I were you.”

“I’m just saying. There’s some things a _real man_ can give you that a lonely lady’s helper can’t.”

“Bold of you, to insinuate you’re a real man,” Daisy snaps. She would have said more but suddenly the dick’s hands surge forward off the back of the couch and reach around, grabbing her ass in greedy handfuls. She feels him spread her wider, and Daisy claws at his chest desperately as she feels that perfect spot inside her slipping farther and farther away. “No! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking you for the ride of your life,” the dick says, and he grabs the bottom of her thigh in one wide, groping fist and slides the other up to the center of her back. She’s stronger than him, she knows she’s stronger than him, if he had a twin brother who was stuck chest-deep inside his asshole she could deadlift them both without a spotter, but the angle is awkward and she has shitty leverage with her legs tucked up under her and her feet hanging out over nothing and before she can properly react he has them flipped entirely over so that Daisy’s flat on her back on the couch like some crooning bitch in heat and the dick is leaned over her breathing his pickled egg breath all over her face with his cock hitting all the wrong places.

“Get _off of me_ ,” Daisy hisses, slapping at the man’s chest as best she can with her arms trapped halfway folded. The best she accomplishes is batting around the dangling front of his stained, white button down and making herself see red with rage. It’s times like these that make her wish she wasn’t trying so hard to be a person.

The man begins to thrust in a haphazard, undisciplined way that makes Daisy think he’s had most of his practice with his own hand, and the hand probably didn’t get much out of the encounter. In spite of the slight swell of his belly peeking out from the bottom of his button down, the angle he’s chosen to pin her down at ensures that her poor aching cock doesn’t even get a proper pounding. All she gets is the uncomfortable stretch at the wrong angle and the sweat between the rolls of her crunched up neck and the fabric burn on her back and the distinct displeasure of listening to her ill-chosen one night stand’s ragged, panting breaths. The only pleasure she gets is in hoping that he’ll drive himself into some sort of asthmatic fit and then the charge would be manslaughter _at worst_.

Daisy has a front row seat to the pathetic spectacle that is the dick’s climax, she watches as the red in his face goes somehow redder and his eyes slam shut and his mouth falls open like a fool waiting for flies. He goes still inside her, which is even worse than his clumsy thrusting, and she doesn’t even wait for his dick to stop twitching before she shoves him bodily off her and onto the floor. Daisy hopes, deep in the back of her mind, that he’ll land on that useless waste of a cock and snap it in half.

“What. The _fuck_. Was that?” She snarls, pushing herself back up to sitting. The still-hard nub of her cock rubs against the harsh fabric of the couch and only the barest shreds of her dignity keep her from rutting down into it until she bleeds. 

“That, honey, is what we adults call real sex.”

Daisy feels a wordless scream spread like a flash fire through her chest and she flings herself off the couch to grab the dick by the collar of his shitty, cheap, knock-off shirt and hoist him halfway off the ground and growl in his face, “Get your mouth. On my cunt. Now.”

The one point Daisy can say in his favor is at least he has the decency to look properly afraid.

“I- I’m not exactly a young man,” he says with that infuriating nervous chuckle in his voice again. “I’m still a little winded, you’re gonna have to give me some time to recharge.”

“You have two options.” Daisy drops her grip on him so that his head hits the floor with a satisfying thump. “You can stay very very still so that I don’t accidentally break your neck with the force of how hard I’m about to sit on your face, or you can get the fuck out of my flat this very second so that I don’t have to look at you for one _single_ moment longer.”

There is something at least slightly satisfying about watching the man scramble for the door so fast that he doesn’t even tuck his softening cock, still sheathed in a used up condom, back into his pants before escaping into the hallway.

And hey. Now she’s got a brand new coat. The dog might enjoy shredding it.

Daisy turns back into her flat with a huff. She’d gone out tonight with one goal and now she was left even more unsatisfied than she’d started out. Her thighs are tacky against each other with dried slick as she walks back to her bedroom. She’s got a vibe in there somewhere. It’ll have to do.

She nearly hits her dog when she pushes the door open. He scuttles backwards ungracefully on his hands and knees from where he’d been practically pressed up against it. As she steps in, he rushes back over to her and presses the soft skin of his cheek against her calf and rubs it up and down.

Daisy snorts. “Did all that screaming worry you, boy?”

The dog opens his mouth slowly and makes the odd, deep sound that Daisy assumes is his best approximation of a bark. He’s always been weird, her dog. Probably would get relentlessly bullied if she ever put him in a pound or something. At least he’s finally learned better than to try and speak.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t kill him, so be proud of me.” Daisy shakes her leg to get the dog off so she can get to her nightstand and hunt for where her little bullet vibe has rolled off to. Behind her, she hears her pup jump up on the bed, mattress springs squeaking noisily under his weight. He’s only allowed on the bed when she’s in the room, and he takes full advantage of that fact. Clever little mutt.

The vibrator had been sleek silver when she’d bought it, but by now the coating is chipping off and it feels oddly tacky in Daisy’s hand. She lifts it cautiously to her nose and gives it a sniff and it stinks of salt gone bad. When was the last time she washed this thing? Or charged it, for that matter? When she pushes the button, it just sits there, dead in her hand.

“Fuck!” Daisy hurls it to the ground where it bounces, once, against a crumpled up sports bra before rolling to a stop. She slides her hands up her face until they’re digging painfully into her hairline and lets out a long, emphatic groan. She turns around and grabs her dog by the sides of his face, curling her fingers in his long, dark hair.

“Dog. I am _so fucking horny_.” The dog blinks back at her. His wide, dark eyes are trained on hers, but she knows he doesn’t comprehend. Animals can’t help being dumb. Slowly, Jon leans forward and licks up the front of her nose. When she doesn’t move, he repeats the motion, his little tongue catching on the sensitive hairs of her nose. It’s almost like he’s trying to comfort her.

Daisy tips her head forward until her forehead is pressed against her dog’s. “Thank you, pup. What would I do without you?”

Jon whines out an odd little noise in response, nuzzling his nose forward against hers.

“You’re right. I probably would be even more of a mess.”

Daisy shoves her dog off and straightens up. “Come on, let’s get you dinner. I bet you’re starving since I’ve been out all night, huh boy?”

Jon leaps off the bed after her, landing unsteadily on his hands and knees, before following her eagerly into the kitchen. Daisy has to keep kicking him off as he tries to tangle himself up in her legs while she roots through the icebox. The shelves are pathetically barren, a sad looking tomato sits knocked up against an expired tub of onion dip, and a few boxes of chinese carryout that she’d been hoping to bring in for lunch tomorrow. She really needed to get groceries.

“Looks like it’s peanut butter toast again,” Daisy declares, pushing Jon backwards so she can shut the fridge door without accidentally catching any of his fingers. The dog seems plenty excited about the prospect, his whole body wiggling back and forth. Makes sense, Daisy supposes. You could put peanut butter on garbage and a dog would eat it happily. Must be nice, being such a simple creature.

Daisy’s flat doesn’t have a table, so she grabs the bag of bread and the tub of peanut butter and a knife and plops down on the section of her couch that has the least recent stain. She tries to ignore the way the scent of her own slick, not yet dried on the cushions, sends a throb through her aching cock. It’s honestly the last thing she needs right now. Her dog, patient as always, drops his chin on her knee and stares at the still-closed jar of peanut butter. With one hand, Daisy fishes out a piece of bread, skipping past the stumpy end piece for one in the middle. With her other hand, she fumbles for the tv remote to turn on something that’ll distract her from the heat in her stomach.

They alternate on the toast, Daisy taking a bite before offering one to Jon. She holds the bread out to him and he happily eats it right out of her hand. In the end, she gets full before he does, considering the amount of whiskey she’d drank at the bar, and she gets lazy enough to skip the bread entirely. Just swipes some fingers in the jar and then holds her hand steady for Jon to slowly lick her clean. 

“You really would eat peanut butter off of anything, wouldn’t you,” Daisy murmurs, watching the concentration tight between her dog’s eyebrows as he leans in closer to fit his warm, soft tongue into the web between her fingers, trying to lick even the aftertaste of peanut butter off her skin. Daisy tips her head back until it hits the couch.

“I’m not this desperate,” she says, up into the empty air.

“I’m better than this,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to sound convincing.

But she’s always been a shit liar. Especially to herself.

Daisy’s hand trembles a bit as she scoops out a generous portion of peanut butter. She knocks Jon a bit as she shimmies to the edge of the couch, tilting her hips upward, and smears the glob of peanut butter messily over her cock.

Her dog only hesitates a moment before pulling back and crawling in between her legs. The first pull of his tongue up her cock is heavenly, and Daisy can’t help the sound that she makes as all the tension of her shitty night slides out of her shoulders. She stays as still as she can as Jon laps all around her, his tongue slipping into the corners of her folds and around her cock with no intention or finesse. When he sits back, staring up at her expectantly, his chin is shiny with slick. She’ll have to hose him down tonight.

Daisy doesn’t hesitate this time, digging her fingers greedily into the peanut butter jar and painting herself up again, desperate for her dog to get his tongue on her again. She pets her clean hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp to keep herself from shoving him face first into her cunt. She’s not trying to scare him.

“T-that’s it,” Daisy pants as she paints another line of peanut butter around her hole so that Jon’s tongue starts to tease at her rim and dip messily inside her. “Good boy, that’s my good, good boy.”

Jon whines out a happy noise at the praise that vibrates right through her, and it takes all of Daisy’s considerable self control to keep from rocking forward onto his tongue. Instead, she shoves two messy fingers down into her crotch to pull back the hood of her cock and help her dog press his quick, sharp little tongue directly onto the perfect spot that makes her thighs convulse and the pleasure coil hot and tight in her stomach as she comes.

Daisy has to push Jon away before he licks her poor, over-sensitive cock clean off. She leaves one hand buried in his soft hair, petting him absentmindedly, and throws the other arm across her eyes as she basks in the afterglow. When she drags her thighs shut they feel disgustingly sticky, and she knows she’s not going to like whatever bugs enjoy the mix of slick and spit and peanut butter that’s now ingrained into her poor couch forever. But that’s future Daisy’s problem. This Daisy right now is satisfied, finally satisfied, the itching hunger deep inside her settling down to sleep.

She’s vaguely aware of the shifting weight as her dog clambers up on the couch next to her and presses his nose into her thigh. He’s sticky too. She has so much cleaning to do before they can go to bed tonight. Daisy runs a hand lightly up and down Jon’s smooth, warm back, feeling the way his lungs rise and fall as he settles. 

“Good dog,” she says, again. 

Jon responds with a sleepy noise that sounds almost like a real word, but, just for tonight, Daisy will let it slide.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this weird kinky fic that came out of nowhere, thank you to RavenXavier for the original idea and getting me excited about completely dehumanized Jon, and thank you to Fatal Drum and Emerald Daisy for help with beta-ing!!
> 
> If you enjoyed, I'm [@apatheticbutterflies](https://apatheticbutterflies.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come chat with me I'm fun!


End file.
